Sir
by Swinging Cloud
Summary: If she's being truthful, Santana's not sure why Snoopy is still a float in the Macy's Parade, either, but she doesn't really care all that much. Short Brittana Thanksgiving fluffy smut.


**A/N:** Hello, dear readers! I wrote this because my good friend **Uvaack** had a lot of Brittana Thanksgiving feelings and she threw them up all over me. I would've had this done yesterday, but, you know, typed it on my phone...

Anyways. I hope you enjoy this little ditty. It's short and not super awesome but hopefully it'll make you smile for like half a second. :)

Hope everyone had a safe and happy Thanksgiving and Black Friday. And on that note, I'll shut up now. 8D~

Enjoy!

* * *

Soft, moist lips press gentle kisses on the back of her neck, and the feather-light touch rouses her from sleep. She shifts from her position on her stomach, turning slightly and hugging the pillow under her head closer as she drifts, drowsy and fuzzy-brained, into the world of waking.

The first thing Santana notices as she slowly becomes aware of her surroundings is that she is so very warm- warm, and utterly _content_.

Her eyelids flutter open and she's immediately comforted by the presence of a body against her, and the heat of smooth, bare skin pressed to her own. The kisses move south, down between her shoulder blades, and she sighs as pleasant feelings thrum through her. Only one thought consumes her mind.

_Brittany_.

She smiles in her half-awake state, buried under snuggly blankets, her girlfriend's limbs tangled with hers, warm and soft. She can feel the bite of cold against her face, but she's utterly content to stay cuddled in her cocoon of comforters forever, without any cares in the-

"Wake up, Satan!" Kurt calls from outside her door, "or you'll miss the parade!"

Groaning, Santana hugs her pillow tighter, hoping it will block out the sound of her loft-mate. She can feel Brittany smiling against her skin- it's the only thing keeping her from leaping out of bed and strangling him. That, and the fact that she doesn't want to move. "Fuck off, Hummel."

"It starts in five minutes," Rachel chimes in, her voice sounding stressed and worried- as if missing the parade is the absolute worst fate to befall them.

Brittany giggles against her shoulder, her hot breath sending shivers coasting across her skin, before pressing her lips there again, letting them linger enticingly, and Santana huffs angrily at the thought of being interrupted.

"Then I have five more minutes to sleep," she shoots back. It's too early, too cold, and she's way too comfortable to even consider getting out of bed- especially for a silly parade. It's not like she hasn't seen it before. In fact, she can think of a list of things she'd rather be doing in bed with Brittany, none of which involve Hummelberry.

"Come, on Santana. It's tradition to watch the parade in my family-"

"_And_ mine-"

"-and since you're a part of that now, I expect you to comply with my demands-"

If it was any other time except 8:57am, Santana might feel slightly touched by Rachel's sentiment.

But it _is _8:57am, and Santana is actually pretty okay with staying exactly where she is. The sound of Brittany's low laughter teases her irritation away, and she hums in pleasure as Brittany drapes her naked body over her, sending heat radiating from all the places their skin touches. She squirms a little, feeling her arousal beginning to build, and she has half a mind to tell Lady Gay and Yentl to take their parade and shove it, because she's not moving from her spot. Brittany brushes her hair from her neck and kisses her ear, and Santana makes up her mind.

"I've prepared hot chocolate!" Rachel calls.

Santana's about to tell Rachel what she can do with her hot chocolate, but before she can respond, Brittany smiles against her neck and whispers, "Be nice, San."

Santana sighs. "Is it vegan?"

Rachel hesitates. "Well-"

"If you get up, I'll make you my _special_ hot chocolate," Brittany murmurs against her ear. "Vegetable-free."

Santana smiles at Brittany's humor, and relents- because really, how could she resist? Especially when Brittany's looking at her like _that_?

* * *

It's thirty minutes later and she's cuddled up next to Brittany on the couch under a soft raschel blanket- patterned with a unicorn running on a rainbow- and wearing a long-sleeved gray thermal shirt and fleece, plaid pajama pants. She cradles a cup of hot cocoa in her left hand and Brittany's hand in her right. Kurt and Blaine are snuggled up in the chair, and Rachel sits, peaceful and alone, in the other chair, as they all watch the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade.

Santana can't remember a time when she's actually _watched_ the parade- usually she's helping her abuela cook, watching her little cousins, or in most recent years, spending time with Brittany. It's always been on in the background, but really, if you've seen one you've seen them all. The same five floats appear every year, a few bands play, Santa comes- what's there to be surprised about?

But this year, as she sits beside Brittany and watches her nod her head in time with the performances, and notices Rachel clutching her heart when some cheesy Broadway show does an even cheesier number, and sees Kurt smiling at the crazy costumes, she can finally appreciate the parade for what it is. She admires the dancers- because it's definitely _not_ warm enough for homegirl to be wearing that skirt- and chimes in with her favorite floats, enjoying time spent with her New York family on their first Thanksgiving together.

Quinn's stopping by later for food, since her mom went to visit her older sister this year. Arty, Tina, and Sam went home for the holiday, since it's their first year on their own and they haven't quite figured out the whole adult thing yet. Santana's not sure she has, either, but she's never felt as successful- like she's _making it_- as when Brittany's by her side.

If Santana's being honest, the group of kids she had pictured in New York with her her Senior Year is very different from the group that's actually living here now, but she supposes she doesn't mind so much. She has Brittany; she has Kurt and Rachel, her family. She has Quinn nearby. Everything else is just details.

Brittany's thumb strokes over her hand soothingly, and she sighs in content.

"I'm not sure why Snoopy is still in the parade. _Peanuts_ is nowhere near as big as it was," Blaine comments.

"Do you hear yourself?" Kurt demands shrilly while Rachel looks scandalized. "Snoopy is _classic_!"

"Other than the _Charlie Brown Christmas_, I'm not sure kids even know them anymore," Blaine continues, and Santana vaguely wonders if he's trying to give Kurt a conniption fit.

"That may be true, but the parade is mostly for adults anyway," Rachel argues, looking like a vulture about to swoop down and peck Blaine's eyeballs out with her enormous beak.

"Then why is there a _Dora the Explorer_ float every year?" Santana asks with a roll of her eyes, mostly to escalate Rachel and Kurt's delirium, and Brittany squeezes her hand and giggles beside her, clearly amused by her antics.

"There's 47 _Peanuts_ specials," Brittany adds dryly. "And Snoopy is in those car insurance commercials."

"_Life_ insurance," Rachel corrects, sounding fired up, and Santana tries to keep from laughing at the slight smirk on Brittany's lips. They're both playing a secret game- one they've played since high school.

"Yes, but-"

"But nothing," Kurt teases. "There's just as much _Peanuts_ stuff as when we were kids."

"There's the _Great Pumpkin,_" Rachel says matter-of-factly.

"And comics," Brittany agrees.

"And the Christmas special," Kurt finishes. He pokes Blaine's nose. "So your argument is invalid."

"I guess you're right," Blaine relents with a smile. "_Peanuts_ is classic."

Santana leans into Brittany, resting her head against her shoulder. Under the covers, they link their pinkies, squeezing briefly before shooting each other a secret grin.

* * *

They watch _A Charlie Brown Christmas_ after dinner, once their friends from across the city had come and gone, and it's just them again. Rachel had eaten a tofu turkey burger she'd prepared for herself, but Kurt and Blaine had volunteered to cook for their little family for the holiday days prior, and no one was disappointed. They made a pretty good team in the kitchen.

Santana and Brittany had spent the time sending secret glances to each other, smiling shyly and brushing each other's hands, thinking about _someday_ when they'd be having Thanksgiving on their own. (Santana can't wait until it's just her and Brittany, but she also doesn't mind the way things are. She will enjoy them while she can.)

As they all reclaim their former spots around the TV, with Quinn sharing the couch, Santana and Brittany take turns passing a plate of pie back and forth between them, swapping bites and smiling warmly at each other.

"I am _not_ Lucy," Rachel insists to Kurt, who'd started the Peanuts comparisons just as soon as Lucy began complaining about her lack of Christmas cards.

"You _are_," Kurt argues. "Let's look at the facts: Lucy's bossy-"

Blaine nods. "And fishes for compliments-"

"Like you're one to talk!" Rachel huffs.

"Personally, I think she's more like Sally," Quinn points out, scraping the last bite of pie from her plate. She's staying the night before heading out to the city with them in the morning to do some Black Friday shopping.

"Oh, good point, Q," Kurt nods approvingly.

"Personally, I always liked Schroeder," Blaine admits.

"You _would_," Santana says with a roll of her eyes. Quinn nods. "Though really _Rerun_ might've been more fitting for you."

"Well what about you, Santana?" Blaine counters good-naturedly. "Who did you favor?"

Santana blushes and picks at her pie.

Kurt giggles knowingly and Brittany grins, catlike. "Santana was always a Peppermint Patty fan," she says, and Santana looks at her, shocked that Brittany would reveal her secret. But Brittany just continues to smile at her, reassuring her with her blue eyes that it's okay- that she's _safe_ here- and Santana softens.

"Well that makes sense," Quinn laughs.

"What the hell is _that_ supposed to mean?" Santana demands, but then she realizes what she's said, and she laughs.

Everyone dissolves into hysterical giggles, and Brittany smiles adoringly at her. She leans forward to plant a gentle kiss to her cheek, and before she pulls away, she murmurs against her skin, "I'll be your Marcie, _sir_."

Santana grins like a dope.

* * *

They're in bed later, full and happy and tracing slow, lazy patterns on each other's skin. Santana's not quite to the point of a food coma, but she's definitely full, and she's not sure she can feel more content with her life than how she feels in this very moment.

She sighs as she lies on her back with Brittany curled up against her side, pressing slow, soft kisses up and down her jaw. They're innocent and loving- until they're _not_, and when Brittany's tongue swipes under her ear, Santana tightens her grip on her and tilts her head, giving Brittany better access- which her girlfriend accepts eagerly. Brittany's hands slide down her body, stroking along the outsides of her bare thighs, and Santana closes her eyes and relishes the feeling of Brittany's mouth sucking gently at her neck.

Brittany's lips move lower, traveling across her collarbone, her wet tongue slipping out to trace the dip in her clavicle before sliding even lower, down her sternum, her abs, her stomach-

"Britt," she breathes as the blonde tugs her panties firmly down her legs.

Her girlfriend's playful _What_? breathed teasingly against the inside of her right thigh has Santana swallowing whatever she was going to say, her pulse picking up considerably as Brittany's lips drag along the sensitive skin. She shivers as she feels Brittany's breaths expelled against her sex, anticipating what the blonde's next move is and listening to the increasingly louder pounding of her heart.

Fingernails scrape gently down her stomach, making her arch up; a kiss against her sex has her sucking in a breath, and before she can expel it, Brittany's tongue delves between her folds and she collapses to the mattress, moaning.

She can feel Brittany smile against her. She can feel _everything_. Brittany doesn't waste any time, immediately starting up a strong, slow rhythm exactly the way Santana likes it, and after a moment, Brittany's hands find hers and guide them to the back of her head to wind tightly in blonde hair. Their movements are fluid, almost as if they've rehearsed them; Santana spreads her legs wider; Brittany slides arms beneath her thighs, tilting her head to lick at just the right angle; they both moan.

Santana can sense how wet she is, can hear it on Brittany's tongue as she licks at her entrance. Her thighs tense as she feels her orgasm building, and she whimpers Brittany's name, rolling her hips up instinctually. Blue eyes find hers, sending a hard throb of arousal between her legs and causing Brittany to moan again as she feels it against her lips. Shifting slightly, Brittany pushes first one, then two fingers inside her, burying them deep and holding them still. She curls them slightly to put pressure on her sensitive spot, but focuses most of her attention on Santana's clit, and the combined sensations push Santana that much closer to the edge. She clenches tightly around Brittany's fingers as the blonde sucks gently, and suddenly she's too close to think of anything else but-

"_Brittany_-" she gasps, and then she's falling apart, arching off the bed, her hands tightening on the back of Brittany's head. She rides out her orgasm, thrusting against her girlfriend's mouth, and when the shocks of pleasure finally begin to fade and she catches her breath, she tugs Brittany up to lie against her.

Brittany kisses her with lips still wet from her arousal, and Santana darts her tongue out, chasing away the taste. She lets her breath out heavily, and Brittany chuckles.

"Fuck, Britt," Santana sighs. "I need a minute."

Brittany laughs again before kissing her cheek. "It's okay, sir- you can take care of me later," she teases.

"I definitely plan to," Santana purrs as Brittany snuggles up against her, draping her thigh over her legs, her arm thrown across Santana's stomach. Santana returns to gently tracing her fingertips around Brittany's shoulder and down her arm, and Brittany yawns. They exchange a sleepy _I love you_ before their eyes slip closed and their breathing slows. Santana has a lot to be thankful for- her family, her job, her successful career- but none of those things would mean anything without the girl lying in her arms.

She's most thankful for Brittany, and that despite everything, they've always had each other- and always _will_.

She's almost asleep when a thought randomly pops into her head, and she realizes what Brittany's said. She laughs sleepily and squeezes Brittany closer, pressing an adoring kiss to her head. She's never been more thankful.

_Peppermint Patty and Marcie were totally fucking_, she thinks. But what she says is, "You'll always be my Marcie, BritBrit."

Brittany just kisses her cheek, grinning.

* * *

**SO THAT'S IT I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE PEANUTS.**

**Lmao Peppermint Patty was totally a lezbo if you ask me, I don't care if she had a "crush" on Charlie Brown- it was just a coverup to hide her raging ladyboner for Marcie. I mean how many of us DIDN'T pretend to like guys when we were her age? Not many, I assure you. BEARDS ARE REAL.**

**Well review if you feel like it, but if not, you should know by now that that sort of thing is UNFORGIVABLE. Nah, I'm just kidding, it's cool. Ungrateful asshole. I TYPED THIS ON MY PHONE. Lmao.**

**"We know, Cloud, we can tell**."

**Okay well whatever that's all I've got. The next update you'll see from me will be for ANS so stay tuned for that this weekend. Keeping my fingers crossed that Ensign (my laptop) will recover by Monday...**

**AND NOW A WORD FROM ~OFFICER SAFETY:**

**Yoooo oral sex is the shit. Giving it is the literal best. As long as that bitch has good personal hygiene. Nobody wants to eat rancid pussy. So- take care of yours.**

**But what if your partner doesn't? Well, do the belly button check on that bitch, and follow the Oral Sex Creed: "if it smells like fish, it's a tasty dish; if it smells like cologne, LEAVE IT ALONE." And then tell that nasty girl to shower. There's too many tasty options out** **there for you to put up with gross shit. Have some class, dear readers! You are all worth clean pussy! :')**

**And that's all I have to say ****about that!**

**See you next time!**


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